


The Game Changer

by bluebellsandcocklesshells



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anonymous hookup, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 09:03:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6747631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebellsandcocklesshells/pseuds/bluebellsandcocklesshells





	The Game Changer

It’s 4:30 in the morning and he’s never going to live this down.  Beside him is the man he’d taken home with him from the club and let do some seriously kinky stuff to him.  He could wake the guy up now and kick him out of the house he rented with three other people before any of them got up.  He’d done that before.  His roommates had no idea exactly how many one night stands he’d had.  They knew it was a lot, they just didn’t know it was _that_ many.  His roommates knowing that he is a proud, card-carrying member of the One and Done Slut Brigade isn’t a secret.  But if he let the guy stay the night, made him breakfast in the morning, asked him to elaborate about that weird hobby of his he mentioned…that would be like dropping a nuclear bomb in everyone’s cornflakes.

He should wake him up; he should kick him out still in his underwear with the rest of his clothes clutched in his arms.  But if he does that, he’ll never see the guy’s eyes in daylight.  He knows they are light-colored, but he doesn’t know _what_ color they are.  He knows the guy is pretty—beautiful, really—but he’s slept with his fair share of attractive people.  Why is this one so special?  Is it really just because he’s interested in fairy tale monsters?

Well, who has that kind of hobby?  Traveling the country, and sometimes the world, looking for evidence that all those monsters you were scared of as a kid but then grew up to realize were fake are real.  He’s writing a book.  He remembers that he'd said that as they had pawed each other while dancing at The Manhole—not the sleaziest club he’s ever been to, but certainly not the classiest.  It was just before they realized that humping on the dance floor or even a quick blowjob in the bathroom wasn’t going to be enough to satisfy them.

They had decided where to go based on geography and wound up at his house.  He had no problem bringing home one night stands.  As previously noted, kicking them out in the wee hours of the morning was no skin off his nose.  The neighborhood was safe enough.  So they’d come here—and he’d never let a man do to him what had been done to him just a few short hours prior to his early morning dilemma.  If his curiosity about his partner isn’t enough to let him stay until morning, the desire to have another night with him is.

He turns to look at him.  He should wake him and send him home.  But streetlights from the window fall upon his features as delicate and beautiful as moonlight.  His eyelashes are long, his lips are full—he’s a work of art and less than an hour ago he’d held him upside down as he’d almost fucked him off the mattress.  He is willing to put up with quite a bit of teasing to experience that again.

It’s 9:30am and all three of his roommates have made it into the kitchen before his late night paramour.  He’s made eggs and bacon and biscuits enough for everyone so that it’s not immediately apparent that he made breakfast for his hookup.  As the huge pile of scrambled eggs dwindles amazingly quickly, he begins to wonder how late the guy plans on sleeping.  Maybe he feels awkward about leaving the room since he woke up alone.  He decides he should go get him, bringing a couple of pieces of bacon as either a lure or an apology.

His bedroom is empty, as is his en suite bathroom.  He walks around the backrooms of the house before peeking into the kitchen and seeing only his roommates still eating and chatting.  He wanders to the backdoor and finds it closed, but unlocked.  It isn’t possible to lock the door from the outside without a key, and no one in the house ever uses it.  His ephemeral guest has given him the slip.  Maybe he was shocked to discover that he had spent the night at a hookup’s house.  Maybe he’s a card carrying member of the One and Done Slut Brigade too.

He’s a little disappointed, but he’s sure he’ll find him again.  He crunches on a piece of bacon as he checks his bedroom from the doorway one more time.  Something on the nightstand catches his attention.  He crosses the room and picks up the red matchbook with The Manhole’s logo on the front.  The Manhole has to be the only place left on the planet that still hands out matchbooks.  What was the point when smoking was forbidden inside and within twenty-five feet of the door?

On the inside cover, in very tiny handwriting, is a name, a number, and the message: “If anyone finds out I did this, I’ll never live it down.”

He smiles.  He might have to turn in his card.


End file.
